


The Halla and the Wolf

by ObsidianMichi



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-15
Updated: 2014-12-15
Packaged: 2018-03-01 15:48:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2778812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObsidianMichi/pseuds/ObsidianMichi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inquisitor Eirwen Lavellan dances "The Halla and the Wolf" with Loranil during the celebrations after Adamant, Solas is not jealous. Really. He's not.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Halla and the Wolf

**Disclaimer:** I don't own anything. The characters and setting belong to Bioware. I just put the words in a row.

**Warning:** Mild Sexual Situations

“Dance! Dance! Dance!”

Leaning against a pillar, Solas watched the Dalish elf Loranil fidget. The young man was unused to being the center of attention. Especially not, Solas supposed, when he stood within a crowd of humans. Inquisition soldiers who were now his fellows and eager to see their new friend share a part of himself. He did not know if the Dalish were known among the people of Thedas for their dancing. On a certain level, he did not care.

Below, the campfires burned bright. The great center courtyard of the Western Approach’s fortress cleared out for a celebration. The soldiers deserved it, they had secured victory at Adamant fortress with little loss of life. They had crushed their opposition and saved the Wardens from their own foolish impulses. _If only the Grey Wardens had also been driven out,_ he thought. Solas understood why his vhenan had done it. Still, when it came to forgiving her he had yet to manage it.

His only great comfort now was that she had not come to speak with him. She had avoided him since Adamant. Perhaps, she did so to give him time to sort out his thoughts. Or perhaps she understood more of what Terror had said than she wanted to admit. Whether it was by choice or necessity, business with the Wardens, with her advisors took precedent over soothing his wounded spirit.

_How many good spirits were sacrificed to this madness?_

Cole was somewhere, lurking. Solas knew the young spirit would come find him soon. They alone mourned for the loss. The ale the Iron Bull had brought him left only a bitter aftertaste. He could not run from misery or bury himself in the vague fog it was sure to instill in his mind. There was a time when he might have, a time long before the walls of this keep had been erected, before Adamant ever existed. It harms the mind, lowers inhibitions, will leave me open to take foolish actions. In his current mental state, he would need to be at his best when Eirwen finally sought him out. He would not take his anger out on her. She had only done what she believed was right.

He closed his eyes.

_What is the cost of your victory, vhenan? Why do you believe the Wardens can change? Can you not see redemption is beyond their kind?_

In the end, their ways would harm the world far more than they would help.

_There are days when I am certain your kinder instincts will be the death of your cause._

Perhaps, they would also lead to her death. When the reckoning came, would those she loved stand beside her? Or would she find a knife buried in her ribs? He had, once. He could not expect better for her.

_And I will not be there to help you._

“Come! Loranil!”

The sound of pipes, lutes, drums, and laughter echoed. The soldiers sharing their traditional dances. Fereldan, Orlesian, Antivan, Nevarran, Dwarven, they were from all over Thedas. A vast repository of cultural history and social customs, some meant for great celebrations such as this and some for smaller, simpler ceremonies.

“For the Dalish!”

From his position among his fellows, Loranil stood shaking his head. His long, thin face and sharp nose catching in shadows cast by the firelight. Brown hair swept back off his forehead. A hot blush burned on his cheeks. His arms crossed.

“For the Herald!”

Loranil’s turned to the side and Solas caught the words on his lips. _It is not a thing done for shemlen._

For all their differences, Solas understood the younger man’s prickling irritation. Gripping the mug in his hand, he moved off. There was little reason to stay and witness Loranil’s further embarrassment. The boy would capitulate, eventually. Whether it would be worth seeing was another question.

“Loranil!” A cheerful cry rang across the courtyard.

Solas jerked his head up, gaze sweeping the area below.

Eirwen Lavellan approached, striding across the dusty sandstone in the same outfit she’d worn during their assault on Adamant and their journey into the Fade. Her posture relaxed, her walk slow. She winced every few steps and worked to hide it. Solas swallowed. He needed no supernatural skill to sense her exhaustion, only his eyes and a willingness to look. There was no staff on her back, a sign she felt comfortable enough to forgo it among the mass of tents and celebrating soldiers. Sure she would not be mistaken as some lowly knife-ear by some drunken fool.

Still, her sky blue eyes gleamed in the firelight. A playful smile twitched on her lips. “Shall we show them how it’s done among the People?”

“D-dance,” the young man all but blurted it out. “With you, Inquisitor?”

From his position where he flanked her, Commander Cullen crossed his arms. He said mildly, “I believe our Inquisitor knows what she wants when she asks, recruit.”

The young man snapped to attention. Every inch the good soldier. “Of course, sir!” Loranil stared at Eirwen with wide eyes. “I would be happy to dance with the Herald!”

From her other side, Josephine leaned in and spoke softly. Solas could not hear her, but he understood the gist. _Are you certain this is a good idea, Inquisitor?_

Eirwen laughed. She answered her friend in a low voice. _Why not?_

_There are countless reasons, Herald. Let us begin with—_

Waving her friend off, Eirwen strode into the circle and turned back to the fire. One foot pointed forward, the other turned sideways, her spine straight and shoulders squared. A determined grin lit her eyes.

Solas felt himself take a step forward. For all his anger, for all his frustration, he knew the strained signs of a body pushed past its furthest edge. Her spirit, her mind, her body, all had to be tired beyond measure. _Take this time for yourself,_ he thought. His hand balling at his side. _These slow moments do not come often. We still have Corypheus to face._

She held out her hands. “For the People, Loranil?”

“For the People.” A brilliant grin lit the young man’s face. “Of course, Herald.”

Clapping her hands together, she asked, “Do you know the Halla and the Wolf?”

“Of course!” Loranil bounded forward until he arrived at her side. He took a position across from her.

A flip of her hand signaled the players. The first chords began stirring.

Other soldiers wandered nearer, gathering into a small crowd.

“Tonight, dear soldiers!” Eirwen called. “We instruct you in one of the dearest legends of the People.” Her foot began to stamp. “One of lust unquenched, terror not forgotten, and a desperate love forever denied.” Her hands rose, her head turning, until her gaze met Loranil’s. “That of Ghilan’nain and the Dread Wolf.”

Solas crossed his arms.

“Just dance!” Laughter echoed.

“Don’t stand on ceremony!”

Eirwen bowed solemnly. "As you command."

More laughter followed.

The drumming began.

He watched Eirwen spin away from Loranil. A light quick step, fast as a blink. Her hands clapped, beating in time with the music. Jauntily bouncing with prancing legs, she leaned from side to side. Each movement, delicate in perfect mimicry of a halla. Arms lifted above her head, turning. Back arching. Her eyes dropped, lashes fluttering. The picture of innocence.

Loranil approached her slowly, cautiously. Each move careful and predatory. He swayed with the rhythm, moving in time with her rolling hips. He cut from side to side.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

He lunged. Hungry.

She spun. Backs of her hands brushing up her cheeks, she backed away quickly with each delicate step.

Straightening, Solas took another step forward. His gut clenched. He recognized this dance.

Loranil pursued. His arms swaying back and forth as he moved, his great striding gate swallowing the ground between them.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

She turned to leap.

He caught her waist, whirling her about, until they were nose to nose.

Her hand passed down his face, breathless as she leaned in close.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Their hips rocked together. Each fluctuation carefully timed with the beating rhythm of lute and drum. Her leg lifted, a pointed foot kicking back and out. Eirwen advanced on Loranil. Her intense gaze locked on his eyes. Her arms swaying from side to side with every step. Sweat gleamed on her forehead. Her hands rose and stroked his cheeks.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

She whirled. Springing away, feet lightly landing on the sandy ground. She turned, one hand draping toward the floor as the other stretched to sky. Then, they both whipped high. Her whole body bent, hips and torso rolling. Her fingertips trailed across her breasts.

A woman awakening to desire.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The soldiers stamped and clapped. A few elves among them leaping to their feet. Their heels beating the ground in time with each quivering shift in Eirwen’s shoulders and hips.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

Her eyelids fluttered.

Loranil slid in behind her, his hands wrapping about her waist.

He pulled her tight.

Her hands skimmed the planes of his face, grasping the back of his head and drew him to her slick neck.

Their hips rolled together.

Clap. Clap. Clap.

The crowd screamed.

Solas closed his eyes. The melody was close enough, the image of the two dancers marked by their vallaslin fixed in his mind. He could feel it transporting him back into his memories, to another place and another time. When young elven maidens came of age and their Keepers deemed them ready for sexual intercourse, they had danced a dance like much like this. Theirs a promise of sweet release. The male slaves and free men would come to them with gifts in hand. For each dancing maiden free to choose among them.

A golden bough cut from the vhenadal to symbolize unity between two hearts. A marriage to happen the morning after.

A silver branch for a single night of pleasure.

All lain at the feet of a gentle maid by hopeful suitors. Each supplicant stepping up as the music faded to press his lips to a foot delicately laid bare.

Solas beat his fist against his thigh.

In the vallaslin that marked her to Mythal, Eirwen could have been one such maid. Had they lived during his time, he might have slipped among the crowd as he had at other ceremonies. Dressed as a simple shepherd, silver branch in hand. A sly wolf among the flock. Come to steal another's sweetheart.

_Yes,_ he thought sadly. If he were to see her through the eyes he used then, the branch he carried would be silver.

Yet, there she was in his mind’s eye. Eirwen with her head crowned in flowers. White star lilies, picked by her mother and sisters from the deep woods. Her orange hair long instead of cut short, coiling about her shoulders. Dressed in white, lithe body pampered in silks that flowed around her body. A luxury she might never have known before in her life. Would possibly never know again.

Cloth wrapped tight about her thin frame, the curve of her breasts exposed…

Solas swallowed. Eyes swinging to the dancers.

Loranil spun Eirwen about, his hand sliding up her thigh. Her leg whipped out to wrap about his waist. Their right hands clasped. Loranil’s left tilting up her chin as she arched and dipped. The profile of her young body curving to draw all gazes up to the tilting tips of her breasts and the wide arc of her hips.

An image tantalizing the imagination of the gasping men and women in the crowd.

Solas caught sight of Cullen, the human’s face burned bright red all the way to his hairline. Josephine’s hand covered her mouth, her wide brown eyes lingering on both sweat slicked dancers.

Behind them, Blackwall turned away.

Solas knew how he might have done it. Stepped up to her from his place in the procession and, instead of bending knee, gripped her by her waist and neck. Drawn her in for a deep kiss, for a first taste, to the shouts of anger from her clan and kinsmen. His disguise melting away as he laid his claim.

Solas shook his head.

With all the eyes on Eirwen, he understood now the twinges those other lovers might have felt. Their anger at seeing their hopes stolen. The feelings of impotence in the knowledge they could do nothing to stop it.

“Huh,” Iron Bull’s voice boomed in his ears. “Never knew the Dalish could be so passionate. Always thought they had that stick jammed too tightly up their ass.”

“I suspect there is much about them that would surprise to us both,” Solas replied.

Bull leaned against a pillar, he took a long drink from his mug. “You okay with this?”

“Why would I not be?” Solas pursed his lips. “She is a grown woman. Free to choose. I am not her jailor.”

Iron Bull let out a long, loose sigh. “Solas, the two of you are Skyhold’s worst kept secret. We all see the way you watch her, we all know how she watches you. Don’t tell me you look at them, that, and are perfectly fine she’s not doing it with you.”

“I do not know the steps.” A lie, an easy one. He knew enough, a facsimile. He had even performed it once or twice. He might even again. If only for her. _She does not know._ “It makes sense she would ask another who did.” He did not want to wonder whether or not she might have asked. _And even if, she may have suspected I would say no._ He, after all, was no exhibitionist. He left such shows to the young and exuberant. In private, it would be another matter. Perhaps, on a night alone in his quarters or better yet a dream… no. He held back a sigh. Such innocence was beyond him now.

Below, the crowd let out a cheer. The stamping and clapping grew quicker and quicker. Eirwen spun out, her body whirling faster. Hands high above her head, arms spread wide. Lips spread in a beauteous grin, white teeth flashing in the firelight.

“I don’t get you, Solas,” Iron Bull said. “Most men would be crawling up a wall right now, but not you. I’m impressed. You’ve got to be the least possessive guy I know.”

He smiled. “That is because, my friend, I know one thing you do not.”

The music hit its crescendo and Eirwen collapsed. Her palms flat on the ground. Loranil stood over her, panting.

“And what is that?”

Her bright blue eyes lifted, searching above the crowd. When they found him, a different much more tired smile pulled across her mouth. Solas took in her flushed cheeks, her sweat streaked face, her swollen lips. The quick breath jerking through her small frame. Pupils dilated in those luminous irises. Her tongue sweeping her upper lip to taste the sweat. A heated gaze meant only for him.

Yes, he realized, she did know.

More than that…

She hoped.

A smile cut across his mouth. Angry as he was, he could not disappoint her.

Solas passed his mug to the much larger qunari. “The reward, Iron Bull,” he said, “is not the joy of witnessing the dance or even experiencing it.” His eyes fixed on Eirwen’s and allowed his smile to match her coy one. “It is in the promise of what comes after.”

***

“Oh,” Iron Bull muttered as he watched the apostate elf wander away toward the tents. “ _Oh._ ” Taking a gulp from Solas’ mug, he shook his head and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Damn.” There were days when he should be quicker on the uptake, but the words sex and Solas never seemed to go together. _And that’s enough of that. Time to find my own entertainment tonight._

The air flickered and Cole was at his elbow. “Hands cupping,” the spirit boy muttered. “Lips flicking. Spinning dizzily toward a shining center. Brilliant. Bright. He is angry and yet happy. How can he be furious and fail? He has already forgiven, but cannot forget.” Underneath the wide brim of his hat, his head tilted and his wide empty gaze latched onto Bull’s face. “He will stop short, always short. Stop short and lose her forever.”

“Hey kid,” Iron Bull said, planting the mug in Cole’s hands. “Keep that weird spirit crap to yourself.”

The boy took the mug and settled on the steps. “She is _everything_ , in everything, everywhere, up and down, sideways, inside and out,” Cole said. “An echo to last a thousand years.”

Bull sighed and planted his hand on the boy’s hat. “Maybe you should talk about this with Varric.”

Cole took a hesitant sip from the mug, turned his head and spit. “He thinks he has too much to lose, but he’s already lost.” The boy glanced up at him with round solemn eyes. “Someday he’ll see.”

**Author's Note:**

> For those who don't remember him, Loranil is the Dalish Elf you can recruit in the Exalted Plains. This takes place before the events of Wicked Minds and Wicked Hearts, before Solas and Lavellan dance at Halamshiral.
> 
> So, I was in the Solas thread on the Bioware Social Network and ran across a fan theory (and the story) of Ghilnan'nain and the Dread Wolf, something about him pursuing her in lust, etc. ect. They thought maybe Lavellan could be a reincarnation, which I don't personally agree with, but I could see how that story might become expressed in a dance. The Dalish are pretty uptight as a people. I like to think they let their hair down a little when they dance, when no one can see them. I I don't know... really, really, sexy dancing. Someone needs to rival the Antivans. I might write a sequel/second bit explaining Eirwen's motivations for doing it.
> 
> I do think Solas can be a possessive guy, but he doesn't show it often. He's more likely to take it as an opportunity to walk away. He spends so much time staring in on the outside and he's so private that I felt it would be wrong for him to dance the dance at all. He's also wise enough to be able to tell the difference between an exhibition and real emotion. I sort of imagined "The Halla and the Wolf" as a dance that's all about inspiring a lover in the crowd to come claim his mate, not about the feelings between the two people dancing.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Wolf in the Woods](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4205610) by [TangledFables](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TangledFables/pseuds/TangledFables)




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